


Moose Hunting

by BourbonOnTheRocks



Series: In The Eerie Light Of My Sleepless Nights [3]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 3.04 Fix-It, Angry Sex, Angry fic, But that's what we are here for right?, Dean gets to watch because I'm not a monster, Extremely unhealthy dynamics, F/M, I warned you yes I'm angry, Jealousy, Kissing, Let's generalize about men, Misandry, Ooops ratings changed, Orgasm Denial, Rio totally has a moose vibe, S3 spoiler, Serious misconception of what sex is for, Toxic Masculinity, firearms, jk love you guys, the kiss we deserved to see but didn't get because the writers are TRASH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:49:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BourbonOnTheRocks/pseuds/BourbonOnTheRocks
Summary: "We were so good with him gone"AKAThe one where Dean tries something stupid. No, wait, he always does...
Relationships: Beth Boland/Dean Boland, Beth Boland/Rio
Series: In The Eerie Light Of My Sleepless Nights [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1653067
Comments: 42
Kudos: 147





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Starting during 3.04 and then mostly set a few weeks after. Rio and Beth are kinda working together again and Dean... deanses.

"We were so good with him gone."

And then he kisses her. And the truth is, she's... well she can't exactly disagree. Things were _simpler_ at least. Less threatening. So she clings to Dean's forearm, she gives in to the kiss because it's the only thing that she's left with, because she doesn't know how she's going to gather a hundred grand in time and she's not even sure that it will be enough to stop Rio from killing her. Because maybe it's the last time she gets to be kissed by someone.

But then Rio finds out about the money she prints, and the good news is, he doesn't kill her. The bad news though is that he asks for his cut. Obviously. And her artisanal, hand-crafted money factory which looks exactly like the bakery she dreamed that she would open one day as a kid becomes a night and day running industry. Because he's got contacts, suppliers, places, distribution systems. Expanding is basically his trademark. And she's got the recipe. To this day, she doesn't know why he didn't just kill her right after she showed him her cash-making process. It's not like he needs her permanently for it now. But he hasn't mentioned anything about murdering her ever since, which she takes as an encouraging improvement of her personal situation.

After a couple of weeks, he's taken control. Completely. He's not getting his cut from her business anymore. She is. From his. And that's... that's annoying. She used to be proud of what she'd created from scratch, all by herself, without him. But she lets him perform an aggressive takeover and rebuild his own empire out of _her_ hard work, because, well... she's just escaped from purgatory, she's not exactly eager to go back there. And the threat is still lingering in the air, unspoken but always there, as palpable as the tension settling between them every time their eyes meet.

She's not complaining, though. At least it provides regular — and better than what she used to make — incomes which has always been the point of everything she's done so far. They usually meet twice a week to check the numbers and the upcoming schedules, mostly at Paper Porcupine although sometimes he comes over to her place because it's more convenient for one of them. And she can tell that Dean is not happy to run into Rio when it happens, she can see how much he hates the living manifestation of her job, which he knows about but doesn't want to see in his own house apparently. She can't really blame him for that, but doesn't realize how far it goes until one afternoon.

She's folding laundry upstairs when she hears voices coming from the hall, and as she makes her way down the stairs, she recognizes Rio's. He's not supposed to arrive before another thirty minutes and she angrily sighs. Whether late or early, she hates it when people don't show up on schedule. It's _rude_. She frowns when she realizes that Rio is arguing with Dean, and she clearly wasn't ready for the sight of the two of them facing each other in the living room. With guns. Dean's holding the shotgun he recently bought and Rio is pointing his own gun at Dean, and even from where she stands she can tell that he's armed it.

Great, what now? She swallows, trying to stay calm while she's boiling with anger inside. She _cannot_ catch a break, can she? Dean is turning his back at her so he doesn't see her coming, but Rio raises a brow at her when she enters the room.

"Oh my God, are you out of your minds?" she shouts at them, interrupting their mutual intimidation attempts which she personally finds ridiculous. Nobody is going to shoot anyone.

Dean startles a bit and turns his head at her, giving her a _look_ , his face tense with determined concentration.

"This has to stop, Bethie."

He approximately aims at Rio's upper body and she can tell from the tension in the latter's shoulders that he is this close to shoot Dean in a defense move.

"I love you," Dean pants, and she realizes — Jesus! — that he means it, he's really going to do it, and just...

She leaps forward, brutally pushing Dean aside when the gun goes off and the ceiling light bulb explodes. No-one's hurt at least. But she's sick of it.

"Stop it! Both of you!" she yells, furious, "What are you, horny roosters? Ugh!"

Since when do men have the emotional maturity of five-years-olds? She can't believe that Dean is doing something _that_ stupid. From a purely material point of view, Rio provides, for both of them. For their _children_. She couldn't make that much money on her own. Pushing him out would be a recipe for bankrupt. Plus, does Dean really think that he has a chance against Rio? Against a man she shot three times without actually killing him, and she'd taken _lessons_. Please.

And why does Rio always have to dive head first into the slightest provocation, eager to compete for the biggest dick? And okay, maybe that is a justified attitude when someone attends a meeting full of gangbangers, but against _Dean?_ Is Rio that insecure?

She's so mad at them, both of them, that she's slightly shaking, and suddenly she doesn't want to hear about it anymore, she just wants some fresh air. She _needs_ some fresh air. She'd send them to their rooms if they were actual five-years-olds but they are not, so she just... leaves them to it and heads to the backyard.

"Where are you going, Beth?" she hears Dean's voice in her back.

"Find a ruler so you can both take sizes!" she angrily spits before she slams the backyard door behind her.

She takes a few deep breaths once she's outside, tries to calm down. She's already got so much to handle right now, she doesn't have time for this. Let them sort this by themselves, she doesn't care anymore. Or she wishes she didn't.

She jumps at the sudden sound of a gunshot coming from inside the house, and her heart starts racing. Okay, maybe she does care. A bit. She doesn't know who shot who, and most importantly she doesn't know who she _wants_ to have shot who. And she really doesn't want to have to find out. It would destroy her either way. She will never forgive Rio for shooting Dean again. She doesn't want him dead. As odd as it sounds, she needs him right now. In the past troubled months, at least he's provided some sort of moral support, a reassuring presence that she's not ready to give up on yet. And if Dean shot Rio, then she...

A lump forms in her throat and she finds it hard to keep _breathing_. Having believed him dead once, mourned him, is already enough. She's far from ready to take that road again. She hears the sound of the backyard door behind her and she slowly turns to face the ugly truth. Whatever it is she's going to hate it. Whoever he is she's going to hate him.

It's Rio.

He slowly walks towards her until he's facing her. His hand darts near her side and she thinks that he's going to touch her but he just drops a brown paper bag on the picnic table.

"Your cut," he grunts, hoarsely.

Right, there is that too. That was what he came for in the first place.

"Did you just shoot him?" she asks, dryly.

She's shaking with desperate rage. She feels so powerless, barely able to keep her life in order, and she's _exhausted_. She's sick of spending every minute of her life averting catastrophes. And for what, in the end? For bigger ones. It's endless.

Rio looks at her, smirking, "Nah, just scared him a bit."

He's right. Casting a glance above Rio's shoulder, she sees Dean's shaky silhouette clinging to the doorframe, silently watching them, and she exhales with deep relief. She lets all the tension go and a tear runs down her cheek as she rolls her eyes back at Rio. Something shifts in his expression as he slowly raises a hand, his palm cupping her jaw while his thumb gently wipes her tear, and for an instant there's this strange light in his eyes which just... But no, she probably imagined it.

Her eyes focus once again behind Rio's shoulder, on the man who put her first in this emotional situation when she's already dealing with too much, and suddenly she's mad at Dean again. For his stupid selfishness, his disturbing possessiveness — they are getting a divorce, for Christ's sake, can't she just _breathe?_ — which makes him incapable of tolerating the sight of who she works with. She knows that he's jealous, while he has absolutely no reason to be. Not anymore at least.

Although... Although Rio's hand is warm and soft against her skin, and he's still staring at her, waiting, and she... oh, dang it! Her cheek imperceptibly leans into his palm and she slightly parts her lips, offering him a signal he can't miss. And apparently this is all he was waiting for, because he licks his lips as a response, his eyes locked with hers. When his head tilts forward she closes her eyes, wets her lips with the tip of her tongue, and her heart is racing when their mouths meet.

He captures her bottom lip between his lips, gently nibbling at her, and she kisses him back immediately. She knows that they are kissing for a wrong reason, oddly the same for once, both using the other to prove a point and piss Dean off. Because he's not missing a second of it, she doesn't need to glance at him to just _know_ that he's watching. But she doesn't care, she just revels in the kiss, in the way Rio's hand firmly presses against her jaw to pull her impossibly closer. Playful at first, his lips quickly turn to demanding, want and need emanating from his every move, and she opens her mouth with a soft whimper. She's dizzy. God, she had forgotten what a good kisser he is. Her hand clutches Rio's forearm for grounding as their tongues melt together and she feels like the last time they kissed was yesterday, as if three bullets, a fake pregnancy and countless threats never happened in between. And from the starving way he is kissing her back, she assumes that he feels it too.

Eventually their mouths part, leaving them panting, and there is a mocking light in his eyes which she hates him for when he looks back at her, licking his lips with a smug grin.

"Found that ruler yet?" he drawls, with a manly arrogance she despises even more.

"It lacks small graduations," she replies with a glare and his face darkens.

He takes a step back then casts a brief glance behind his shoulder to check on Dean who's still watching them with an expression halfway between shock and anger printed on his face.

"That applies to both of you," Beth adds, eager to make her point crystal clear.

Rio purses his lips but doesn't say anything, only lets out an acknowledging grunt before he slowly turns around and leaves. 

Beth doesn't even bother to pay attention to Dean's presence when she walks past him on her way back inside the house a minute later, and she picks up the rifle on the living room floor. She carefully unloads it before she wraps the weapon in a loose pillowcase so the kids won't see it.

"I want you to return it," she coldly says without even _looking_ at him, "I'm going to take a bath."

She closes the bedroom door behind her and starts to strip while the hot water is slowly filling the ensuite bathtub. Her lips still taste like Rio, and after a few seconds of hesitation she slightly shrugs and opens her nightstand drawer. Good thing she replenished recently. They do waterproofs now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out there is more to this terrible dynamics...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My post 3.04 nervous breakdown might be more serious than I thought... And I suck at writing smut, so ya'll be warned!

The next time, they meet at Paper Porcupine. After the fiasco of their last encounter, she couldn't be less eager to add her house in their suggestions list of potential meeting places. Over the past couple of days, she's briefly dreaded that Rio would push a sadistic insistence on coming to her place again, just to taunt Dean, but he surprisingly hasn't. He doesn't even mention the incident, keeping a professional demeanor, until she spins on her feet to leave the back shop when they're done, her heels clicking on the concrete floor. His voice in her back stops her dead.

"Got rid of that shotgun?"

Her whole body stiffens but she doesn't turn around to look at him.

"This is not your business," she slowly says, keeping her voice steady while she stares right at the wall in front of her.

"Well if he tries this again with me he's a dead man. Just sayin'."

His voice is casual but she can feel the tension underneath, and she slowly rotates on her toes to face him. Even if they haven't mentioned it for the past couple of months, she has to ask. She needs to know.

"Are you giving second chances to everyone who tries to kill you?" she feebly asks, out of breath.

He pops an eyebrow and there is a flicker of surprise in his eyes, as if he didn't _expect_ her to have the boldness to ask, as if the allusion in his speech wasn't obvious. But, well... maybe it wasn't. Maybe it's just in her head.

"Why, you growin' a new hobby or summin'?" he teases, purposely annoying and maybe a little threatening too, and suddenly she regrets that she's asked.

Because the idea that he actually thinks that she could consider doing that _again_ , and for leisure purposes, nothing less, it's just... never mind.

She shrugs, shaking her thoughts away with a wave of her head, "I was just asking. See you on Monday."

She daringly jerks her chin at him, unwilling to let him see that he's hit a very, very sensitive spot, but she doesn't have time to move before he answers the question with a cruel grin.

"I only do when it's worth it. Doubles the fun," he negligently drops.

And she's not exactly sure of what she should do with this information, but all she knows is that she doesn't want to find out. Except that she's apparently opened the Pandora's box of Rio's dickishness with this, because he tuts her very authoritatively when she turns her back at him to leave for good, and she freezes, again, a deer caught in headlights.

She hears him coming closer until she can feel his presence in her back but she doesn't want to look at him. Not yet. He's been torturing her for weeks, toying with her expiration date, and this completely honest confession about how that fits in his conception of _fun_ has unraveled her in a way she doesn't want him to see. And sure, he's never looked even remotely sorry for doing this to her, but him admitting it so openly, it kind of hurts. Especially because she's recently caught herself falling back into old habits and nourishing stupid illusions about him. Illusions mainly based on the idea that his decision of eventually sparing her might be guided by softer feelings than what he's willing to display. And the way he kissed her in front of Dean last week didn't exactly put an end to that theory.

Whatever. She deeply inhales, closes her eyes and mentally counts to ten to calm down. She's only at six when he speaks, though, which makes her almost startle.

"Whose was it?"

The question is a murmur and she blinks several times, trying to understand what the hell he's talking about when she suddenly catches up. Oh. She's always doubted that he ever believed her, the story sounding made-up even to her own ears, but if he did, then... then she finally has the upper hand with this. She slowly turns back to discover that he's standing much closer than she thought, his body inches away from hers, and her eyes flutter rapidly to hide her passing turmoil while her body absorbs his proximity.

"Does it matter?" she replies, echoing what she'd told him back then.

There is a mix of amusement and disappointment in his eyes when he replies, slightly shrugging, "I thought you didn't fuck that dude anymore."

She rolls her eyes, frankly annoyed. Not _that_ again. Especially after this very short instant during which she's lured herself into the belief that Rio truly cares about getting an answer, and isn't only interested in knowing who she's slept with.

"Does it matter?" she insists, a little angrier, and, _there_ it is, the triumphant light in his eyes.

There is a trap here, and she doesn't have the key for it, because she wasn't even aware that he was pulling the rug out from her feet in the first place.

"You enjoyed your time with him, ma?" he asks, his voice filled with gravel and a hint of danger which raises a red flag in her brain.

She makes her decision in a split second.

"I've got to go," she says, stepping back, but he firmly grabs her arm, pulling her back at him.

"You ain't goin' anywhere 'til I said so," he growls, "You and I have unfinished business to settle."

He seems angry now, and so is she. She yanks her arm out of his grip with a defying look but she doesn't try to leave anymore. She's done scattering around every time he intends to scare her. He doesn't scare her anymore. Mostly because even his worst threats have never materialized as more than bearable hurt. Physical hurt, because the mind games are something else, but the point is, he's never hit her, nor assaulted her, and deep down she knows that he won't, that he always pushes things as far as he can until he's toeing the line but never oversteps her deepest boundaries.

Incidentally, that's also what makes it so hard for her to truly hate him. Nothing he's ever done to her is completely unforgivable, while what she did to him... stop. Enough on that. But he's thrown that gauntlet at her, and he's wrong if he thinks that she won't pick it up.

"Fine, let's settle it, then," she says with her softest voice, "I did. Yeah."

His expression darkens and he slowly runs one fingertip along her cheek. She shudders at the contact but doesn't step back, still staring at him and daring him to unfold his game.

"Yeah? He kisses you like I kissed you the other day?"

His finger slides in her neck and her eyes widen, half from his touch and half from his cocksuredness. He's going to play it dirtier than she'd thought.

"What do you want, a report?" she spits back.

And the worst part is, as much as she's extensively annoyed with his stupid and somehow offensive sense of competition, she can't help but feel a little bit aroused from the way he touches her, provokes her, fills her mind with very specific memories, induces her to unwillingly _compare_.

"Maybe I do," he replies absent-mindedly, his eyes absorbed in the invisible trail his finger is tracing over her collarbone.

She's taken aback by his manly confidence, and she's looking for something mean and sharp to reply but her mind is temporarily unavailable because Rio's finger is approaching the seam of her neckline which is fairly... distracting. He can tell, because of course he does, and he pushes his upper hand further, taking one more step until he's basically breathing against her and she lowers her eyes.

"He touches you like I do?"

She emits a small whimper because the way he says that brings back a kaleidoscope of images and sensations in her mind, most of them implying Rio's fingers lingering on some part of her body – generally an erogenous one. His mouth is so close and she desperately wants to bite his bottom lip, but she forces her eyes back up at him. His pupils are blown, bringing a heavy and warm darkness to his look, and her mouths dries.

She swallows, trying to find something to say, but she can't think straight anymore. A choked noise escapes from the back of her throat when Rio's other hand lands on her hip, quickly darting south and slipping under her skirt. She's tempted to press her thighs together and deny him access, mostly to annoy him if she's being honest with herself, but she's already too far gone at this point. She hates him as much as she wants him, and from the satisfied smirk blossoming on his lips, she knows that he's perfectly aware of that. And suddenly it hits her. Rio doesn't care at all about Dean. Not to the point of not killing him, at least. His only reason to spare him is all about _doubling the fun_ he can make of her.

He probably sees the frustrated anger in her eyes because his grin widens and she hates him for it, just like she hates him for everything he puts her through. But then she abruptly closes her eyes and sucks in a moan as her brain gets short-circuited when he slips a finger under her panties, finding her already soaked, although she wishes her body didn't betray her so easily.

"You get that wet for him too?"

A part of her wants to tell him, that yes, absolutely, Dean does all those things to her, even if it's not even close to the truth, because Rio surely doesn't expect that from her and she could steal him the upper hand. But there's this other part of her who just wants Rio to never stop doing whatever sweet torture his fingers are inflicting to her, and she'll break this moment if she gives in to her pride.

So she plays the only card she's left with. Taking the lead. She presses on her toes to reach for his mouth and finally suck at his bottom lip, a sinful temptation which has been hanging in front of her for already too long. It seems to trigger something from Rio because he kisses her back with a furious groan, pressing one finger inside of her at the same time and she completely loses her mind. She digs her nails in his back, and he removes his hand from her panties shortly after to press her body against him. His other hand squeezes her breast while their tongues are fighting for dominance with equal fury, and he pushes her backwards until she feels the edge of the wooden table she uses to craft the money pulp hitting her lower back.

He effortlessly lifts her and gets her seated on top of it before he yanks her panties down and immediately presses two fingers back inside of her, his mouth attacking her neck and his other hand pressing bruises in her hip and firmly steadying her.

She gasps and whimpers at the rough pumping motion of his hand, her fingers clawing his shoulders and she's already so far gone in her daze that she barely registers when he cruelly asks in response, "He makes you moan like that?"

His fingers suddenly pull out from her and she hears him one-handedly unzip his pants. Her palms travel to both sides of his face, pulling his head away from her neck so she can press her forehead against his when he thrusts harsh and deep inside of her. They both gasp with shock and she barely gets a second to adjust before he's furiously pounding, his hands fiercely gripping her hips. This isn't love, and it's scarcely lust anymore, if anything it's mostly hatred and anger. But there is something strangely cathartic in the way she lets him fuck her and bite her skin, drawing sharp cries out of her, something which dilutes the hate, washes her guilt away and pays the debt she's got with herself.

She's bent her head backwards, hoarse noises escaping from her throat as she's getting closer, when he suddenly slows down his pace, settling into long deep strokes inside of her while he slips a hand between them to circle her clit with his thumb.

"He fucks you like I do?"

She'd slap him for that if she could, but right now she just wants him to keep going and make her come, so she doesn't answer, pressing her eyelids closed while she's chasing her peek, and it’s getting closer, and she's almost there, and...

"Does he, Elizabeth?"

He jerks his hips against her and she cries out, but still she won't surrender.

"Tell me..." he asks again in a hoarse whisper.

Suddenly his thumb is gone, and the lazy moves of his cock inside of her are enough to keep her there, trembling on the edge, but not enough to push her on the other side. She lets out a shocked whimper of frustration and she hates him for this, but she doesn't have it in her to spit venom back right now. And she knows what he wants to hear.

"Nobody does..." she weakly whispers in a moan, and she feels his sharp bite in her neck as a response.

"Good. That my girl," he mouthes against her skin, and her reward comes instantly.

His thumb gently strokes her again, and after a couple of deep thrusts she's gone. She muffles her scream in the crook of his shoulder while she clenches hard around him, immediately dragging him with her in the fall, something he probably didn't anticipate judging from the shocked gasp that comes out of his throat as he spills out inside of her.

It takes them a minute to recover, and his cock is still softening inside of her when he straightens, a challenging and rather unhealthy light in his eyes.

"He gets you knocked up?"

The question snaps her back to reality and she momentarily frowns since this is absurd if not ridiculous, because… well, there are four little living evidences that Dean is actually capable of impregnating her and Rio can't have missed this information. God, what is wrong with him that makes him so competitive against Dean? _Dean!_

But it's too good to be true, the way he finally hands her the victory on a silver plate without even realizing it. She takes her time to rearrange her hair before she looks at him, commiserative.

"I never was pregnant," she softly says, and even if she's not saying it, the _Oh, honey,_ is clearly implied in her tone.

If she still had any doubts about him not believing her lie, now she doesn't anymore. She can read on his face the aftershock of the bomb she's just dropped, and maybe it is suicidal to steal him the lead just when he thought that he was far ahead of her in that stupid race, but she just can't resist. It’s her retaliation for his obnoxious possessiveness. He immediately pulls out and his face darkens, eyes glowing with hatred and contempt, and... is that _disappointment?_ He takes a step back as he tucks himself back in his pants, considering her, before he lowly replies – although spits would be a better description of the way his mouth drops the words.

"Next time I'll fuck you in front of him."

And she doesn't know whether she wants to punch him, burst into laughter at the ridiculousness of this, or moan in languid anticipation, but whichever it is, she bites her lips until he's gone, just not to.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't mean to offend anyone and the tags I put in my fics are purely intended as jokes. So I don't think at all that GG writers are trash, and I love your work, guys, like really, I'm a big fan, but seriously, slo-mo pulp-making??? Ain't that a bit too much?? Brio doesn't need slow motion to be INTENSE, please don't 50-shade them... 🥺🥺🥺


End file.
